


Stay Alive, That Would Be Enough

by InimitableAnOriginal, SerenaEP



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Physical Disability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide Attempt, Teen Pregnancy, i'll tag if more things come up if i remember to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8010619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InimitableAnOriginal/pseuds/InimitableAnOriginal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenaEP/pseuds/SerenaEP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[RE-WRITING/EDITING IN PROGRESS]. <br/>With childhood best friend John Laurens and new friend Alexander Hamilton by her side, Eliza Schuyler learns to cope with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. </p><p>Alexander Hamilton learns to trust and love as he finds his place amongst his foster family the Washingtons, their son Lafayette and Lafayette's friends, Hercules Mulligan, John Laurens & the Schuyler sisters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blueberry Muffins and Mismatched Socks

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Something They Can Never Take Away](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6642676) by [a_mind_at_work](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_mind_at_work/pseuds/a_mind_at_work). 
  * Inspired by [Rise Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6080439) by [ohNooOOOOoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohNooOOOOoo/pseuds/ohNooOOOOoo). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things to note.
> 
> This will probably not be very good, I have not written in a long time, but two fics I read recently really inspired me to get back into writing.
> 
> (you'll see this in the coming chapters) There is a few reasons for writing John Laurens as a disabled character but mostly it helps to explore the relationship between John and his father, often portrayed as abusive, but from my research, Henry Laurens seemed to actually be really well meaning, but overprotective and misguided, which is often the case of parents with a disabled/ill child. 
> 
> Other characters will be introduced over the next couple of chapters.

“Why on earth are you baking muffins at three in the morning Peggy dear?”, Angelica Schuyler had made her way to the kitchen to get a drink of water in the early hours of the morning and to her surprise, she found her younger sister Peggy standing at the kitchen island, agitated, pouring batter into muffin cases. The kitchen was in complete disarray.  
  
Peggy sighed, running a hand through her hair, leaving a dusting of white flour amongst the brunette curls.  
  
“Something is up with Eliza, she hasn’t been eating, and you know how much she loves blueberry muffins, so I thought if I left a fresh batch for her maybe she might eat breakfast, and I have to leave at 5 for swim training, and at some point I need to sleep, so I thought now was as good a time as any,” Peggy explained, shrugging. “I just want to help Eliza and if that means 3 am baking, then 3 am baking it is,” she continued.  
  
“Need some help?” Angelica offered, rolling up her sleeves and tying her sleek black hair up into a messy ponytail.  
  
“Well these need to go in the oven, then I just need to wash up,” Peggy motioned to the trays of muffin batter on the kitchen counter. “Head up to bed kid, I’ll finish this up, see you at school?” Angelica instructed, embracing her sister in a hug, “Eliza is going to be okay” she whispered in her younger sister’s ear, not knowing whether it was herself or Peggy she was attempting to convince.  
  
__________  
  
“I don’t recall baking yesterday, nor buying muffins. Any idea where these came from Angelica?” A perplexed Catherine Schuyler had come down to her kitchen to find a basket of freshly baked muffins on the table where Angelica was seated, surrounded by textbooks, working on an essay.  
  
“Peggy and I couldn’t sleep, so we made muffins at around three in the morning,” Angelica stated as if it were the most obvious and most normal thing in the world, before focusing back on the book in front of her.  
  
“Of course! Philip, why are our children so strange?” Catherine sighed.

In response, Philip planted a kiss on her forehead and placed a mug of coffee in her hand.  
  
“Muffins are better than what some of the other children around here do at 3 am I suppose?” Philip sounded absent as he spoke, his mind elsewhere.  
  
Everybody looked up as Eliza stumbled into the kitchen, dark circles under her eyes, book bag slung over her shoulder, shoes in hand.  
  
Taking a seat at the kitchen table, Eliza slipped into her shoes and tied the laces, she didn’t reach for the cereal on the table.  
  
With no subtlety, Angelica placed a muffin and a glass of juice in front of Eliza, receiving only a very small smile in response.  
  
Returning to her seat at the table and her essay, Angelica watched Eliza eat, or rather watched Eliza not eat. She picked a single blueberry out of the muffin, nibbling at it with the appetite of a sparrow for a while, before hurrying back upstairs.  
  
“Unusual,” Catherine noted mostly to herself as she cleared the table. Of her 5 children, including a son, Eliza easily had the biggest appetite, yet she’d barely touched her food; again.  
  
Catherine considered saying something either to Eliza herself, or Angelica, but before she could, Philip looked at the clock and announced loudly that he would be leaving in 5 minutes, and if the girls wanted a ride to school they’d better be ready.  
  
Five minutes later Eliza made her way back downstairs, straight hair braided loosely to one side, resting on the lapel of her school blazer.  
  
Angelica placed a brown paper bag in her sister’s hands. “Muffins, for when you get hungry later,” she explained.  
  
“Thanks, Angelica” Eliza spoke quietly as she gave her sister a smile and reached up to hug the taller girl before following her out the front door.  
  
__________  
  
“ELIZA!” A shout from the end of a corridor caused Eliza who was dialling the combination for her locker to spin around.  
  
Eliza’s younger sister Peggy bounced down the corridor, full of energy and enthusiasm as usual. “Hey, we match, not even planned!” Peggy greeted her sister, her damp hair was braided to one side the same way as Eliza’s.  
  
“Soooo, how was breakfast?” Peggy asked, feeling hopeful the muffins would have convinced her sister to eat.  
  
“I wasn’t really hungry,” Eliza cast her gaze to the floor and fiddled with the bracelets around her wrist as she spoke.  
  
“Eliza, are you okay?” Peggy’s voice was serious, she’d taken a seat on a nearby bench.  
  
Gaze dropping once more and yet again fidgeting, Eliza responded, stuttering “W-Why do you ask?”  
  
“Eliza, you’re wearing one knee high sock and one ankle sock, one of which is inside out, you aren’t wearing your watch, and girl, you are ALWAYS hungry, yet you've basically stopped eating.” Peggy elaborated, causing Eliza to look down at her socks, cheeks flushing.  
  
Taking a seat beside her sister, Eliza slipped off her black leather shoe and removed the inside out sock to fix it. Reaching into her backpack, Peggy offered a pair of matching socks, for which Eliza was grateful. “I always carry spares in case somebody forgets their gym socks,” She said by way of explanation.  
  
“I was up really late studying for uh, a big uh quiz that’s today, chemistry, I uh must of um been still half asleep or something when I got dressed,” Eliza mumbled the words quickly and incoherently, Peggy could barely make out her words.  
  
Peggy knew that Eliza didn’t have a chemistry quiz as she’d been talking to Lafayette, only minutes ago. Lafayette took chemistry with Eliza and had mentioned his relief that for the first time in months they didn't have a quiz, test or presentation, just a practical. She had decided to go along with it, but still try to get to the actual problem, however, a ringing bell had Eliza scurrying off down the hall before she could get a word in.  
  
Sighing, Peggy slung her backpack over her shoulder and sighed as she wandered down the carpeted hall, mind racing with the numerous scenarios that might account for Eliza's mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any (many) critisicms please share them so i can improve and thank you SO much for reading lovely humans x


	2. Last Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander Hamilton is introduced to his newest foster family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am a confused and confusing human, this chapter is actually set a day before the previous, the next however follows on from the first, whoops, sorry

“Listen, this is your last shot kid, don’t throw it away.” Alexander Hamilton’s social worker spoke with a very serious tone, with her hand on the skinny boy’s shoulder as they stood outside a large house in Washington D.C. She was ready to place Alexander with yet another foster family.

  
There was a lot of hope that this placement would last longer than the previous, behavioural issues had been cited as the reason for asking Alexander be placed with a different family, however, his social worker Phillipa Soo had suspicions this was to do with abuse towards the boy, unfortunately, she could not prove this to be the case.

  
She’d seen the boy’s school reports, watched him interacting with people, he was an intelligent boy, if not a little impulsive, but he was a good kid, with a lot of potential, and she wanted to give him the best chance to succeed.

  
The Washingtons had only fostered one child before, and it had been successful, the boy, of the same age as Alexander, had come from similar circumstances to those of Alexander. So Phillipa had reached out to Senator Washington and his wife Martha, to ask if they could, at least in the very short term, foster the boy. They agreed.

  
As Alexander stood outside the house, he was full of apprehension and excitement. This was his last shot, he couldn’t mess it up, but if the Washingtons were like Mr Seabury in New York was, then it could be a problem.

Phillipa noticed Alexander fidgeting, shifting his weight between his feet, clearly anxious. She placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. "They're good people, the Washingtons."

  
“Now or never kid,” Phillipa told the boy, taking a step towards the grand front door and knocking confidently.

  
“I'll be right there, sorry!” Called out a woman’s voice, as far as Alexander could tell from hearing four words through a door, she seemed kindly. Sometimes people were easy to read and he really hoped that was the case with Mrs Washington. It was about time he got placed with somebody kind and easy to read.

  
The woman who appeared at the door moments later had kind eyes and a warm smile, but it was the boy practically bouncing down the stairs behind her that caught Alexander’s attention.

The boy had a mass of tight curls pilled into a messy bun atop his head, and a smile that helped Alexander understand the phrase 'grinning from ear to ear'. The headphones around the boy's neck were blasting music Alexander could hear from the doorway, and his black shirt bore metallic music control symbols: pause, play, and such, for some reason he reminded Alexander of an overexcited golden retriever.

  
The woman extended a hand to Alexander, “It’s so lovely to meet you, Alexander, I’m Martha, come in, come in, can I take your bag?” there was a kindness in her voice Alexander wasn't used to. She stepped back holding open the door, ushering the boy and his social worker inside.

  
Having descended the impressive staircase, the other teenage boy bounded across the room to them, he extended a hand to Alexander, unable to stand still from excitement, “Bonjour mon ami Alexander, I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette” the boy paused for breath after the many names rolled effortlessly and quickly off his tongue, “but usually people call me Lafayette, or sometimes Laf, how nice it is to make your acquaintance” Lafayette spoke with a thick french accent, but his English was good.

  
“My name is Alexander Hamilton, I usually go by Alex though, it’s so lovely to meet you both,” Alexander replied, giving the pair a small smile.

  
“We have some things to discuss” Martha glanced in the direction of Phillipa before returning her glance to Lafayette and continuing, “So how about you show Alex his room and give him a bit of a tour Laf?”

 

“Oui! This way Alexander,” Lafayette took Alex by the wrist and began to drag him towards to staircase, taking the stairs two at a time as Alexander trailed behind. “You’re going to LOVE it here I just know it mon petit ami,” Lafayette called down the stairs to Alexander. “Martha and George are just fantastique parents, they are very trusting with me, very accepting of who I am, of my friends.” the boy talked happily of his parents to Alexander, who nodded along.

  
“So this here is my room” Lafayette pointed to a room first to the left in the hallway. Alex looked into the room, taken aback slight by such brightly coloured walls, one white, one a very intense red, two in a deep and bright blue. The walls were strung with Christmas lights and polaroid pictures pegged to the wire, showed Lafayette and what Alexander could assume to be his friends goofing around and enjoying themselves in various locations. Lafayette’s room also contained a desk, strewn with books, and a double bed, which was covered with more cushions and pillows than Alexander could be bothered to count.

  
“This is you, we are just across the hall from each other mon petit ami, you can visit me whenever you like, or we could talk in separate rooms, anyways here you are mon petit ami, I know it’s boring and bare, I know, but we can take you to the mall, buy things to decorate, make it homely, make it yours.” Lafayette opened the door to Alex’s room as he spoke, and Alex could not help but think that this boy talked even more than he himself had talked back on Nevis with his mother, which had been a lot of talking.

 

“I’ll be back in second” Lafayette announced, sprinting across the hallway as Alexander surveyed his new room. It was larger than he’d ever seen but quite empty, one wall was lined with bookcases, though between the three bookcases, he counted 5 books. There was a double bed, like in Lafayette's room, with a white duvet and two pillows in matching white pillow slips, coordinating perfectly with the white painted walls, and white furniture. The only other thing in the room was a white wooden desk and a green wheeled office chair, the only source of colour apart from the few books. Alexander was thinking to himself about how much nicer this was than any of the bedrooms in his previous foster homes when Lafayette came back.

 

“You need some colour, this room is so ordinaire ” He told Alex by way of explanation as he placed three throw pillows on the bed, one had red stripes, one blue cat faces and the other decorated with music scores.

 

“This is nicer than any room I’ve had before,” Alexander told him, looking at the floor, ashamed and was surprised when instantly Lafayette bounded across the room to hug him. “I am sorry mon ami,” Lafayette whispered in the boy’s ear. He then took the shorter boy by the wrist once more, gently leading him out of the room and down the hallway.

  
“This is the bathroom, we will share. Often I take a very long time to have my shower in the morning, Je suis désolé” Lafayette followed his apology with a laugh, “Attendez, parlez-vous français mon ami?” Lafayette spoke perfect french to Alexander, in an attempt to gauge the boy’s level of understanding of the language; if any. “Je parle couramment français, Espagnol et Anglais,” Alexander explained that his command of languages encompassed French, English and Spanish.

  
“George and Martha are at the end of the hall,” Lafayette waved in the vague direction of the furthest bedroom. “And THIS” Lafayette threw open the door next to Alex’s room dramatically, “this mon petit ami, is the games room. Arguably the best room in the house, except perhaps the kitchen, where of course there is food.” His eyes lit up with the same excitement Alexander had noticed downstairs.

 

_________________________________

 

“How much has George told you?” Phillipa sat at the Kitchen bench with Martha, who placed a cup of tea in front of her.

 

“Pretty much all of it, his mother, his cousin, the hurricane, the poor kid,” Martha replied, a sorrowful expression spreading across her face as she thought of all the hell young Alexander had been through at only 16.

  
“That, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to be all of it” Phillipa sighed, “Alexander changed a lot after his first placement, Samuel Seabury. The school reported suspicious bruises, injuries, and a change in his mood, but we couldn’t prove anything. He started to talk less, act out at school, get in fights, his grades slipped, something was clearly going on.” Phillipa shuddered as she spoke.

  
Before Martha could respond, still dragging Alexander by the wrist, Lafayette ambled into the room. “This is the best of the rooms in the house mon petit ami, for in here, our dear Martha creates magic.” Lafayette sauntered across the kitchen and planted a kiss on Martha’s cheek. “Your cooking is truly magnifique mère, I am very lucky it was you and George who adopted me,” Lafayette smiled at Martha, a truly loving look in her eye. “Ah, but it was George and me who were the lucky ones Laf,” She told the boy, hugging him.

  
“I better be heading off, thank’s for the tea Martha, if anything comes up you have my number, you do as well Alex, don’t be afraid to call or text” Phillipa smiled at the boy before exiting the room.

  
“Tea, Coffee or Hot Chocolate dear?” Martha smiled as she offered Alex a drink.

  
Soon the two boys and Martha, hot drinks in hand had retreated to the lounge room and were laughing and joking, Alex finally felt like he was a part of something, and it was a feeling he didn’t want to let go of anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated, thanks for reading lovelies!


	3. You simply must meet Thomas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Alexander Hamilton begins school with Lafayette, meeting his friends and enemies alike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely Serena helped with editing this chapter and providing ideas when and where I got stuck, thanks Serena! 
> 
> If there's anything that doesn't seem accurate especially in terms of the school setting/teacher/layout/classroom layout etc, please please tell me, I've done quite a bit of research, but i am not american, so I'm no expert. 
> 
> This chapter, takes place directly after the previous, and also leads into the end of the first chapter, sorry, it ended up very confusing, oops, but after this it’s all in the right order.

Lafayette continued to run down the seemingly never-ending school hallways, arm outstretched, his hand was wrapped around Alexander’s bony wrist, dragging him as he stumbled along behind. Beside a set of blue lockers, a tall, muscular boy stood, leant against the cream walls, conversing with a much smaller boy, seated in a wheelchair, from behind all you could see was a mane of dark curls swept up in a low, loose ponytail.

“Yo, knucklehead!” The larger of the two boys hugged Lafayette immediately. He then turned to Alexander, "You must be Alex, I’m Hercules Mulligan, I need no introduction, but whatever this imbecile said about me, just assume bullshit.” Hercules smiled as he extended a hand to Alexander, it was twice the size of the one Alexander used to shake it.

Lafayette, standing upon his tiptoes, planted a kiss on the boy’s cheek, receiving only an eye roll in response.

“Alexander Hamilton” Alexander paused, thinking maybe he hadn’t been clear enough “My name is Alexander Hamilton” he elaborated just to be safe, adding a small smile.

The wheelchair spun around, Alex’s eyes surveyed the boy’s face, dotted with freckles, up close his hair was even more curly, and there was something about the look in his eye, it gave Alexander a feeling he couldn’t quite place.

“I’m John Laurens,” The boy said, his voice small, hand on the back of his neck, gaze shifting towards to floor

“Gone shy on us now, Honey Badger?” Lafayette teased, ruffling the boy’s hair, which earned him a glare.

A confused head tilt and an enquiry came from Alexander “Honey Badger?”

“These idiots,” John motioned to Lafayette and Hercules Mulligan, “For some reason, seem to think, that I am the human embodiment of a honey badger.” A glare was directed towards the French youth in particular.

“You totally see Alexander oui? Mon ami Laurens, looks so unassuming, so innocent, it’s the curls and well you know,” Lafayette gestured to the wheelchair subtly before continuing, “But DAMN mon ami can this kid hold his own, petit mais féroce!”

Hercules immediately interjected with a translation “Small but fierce: he says this SO often, it’s basically burned into our minds. Laf’s right though, he can hold his own, this honey badger is unassuming but a damn badass,” Mulligan looked proud as he placed a hand on Laurens’ shoulder, in response, Laurens gave Hercules a playful but forceful shove.

“I am not a honey badger,” John muttered, glaring at the boy beside him, and then at Lafayette.

“Have you seen Eliza?” A loud voice caused Alexander to turn, revealing the voice to belong to a slender girl much younger than Alexander, she looked about thirteen or fourteen years old. She was bouncing from one leg to the other, her brunette hair was damp, the curls were braided to the side. She was carrying two bags emblazoned with the school's crest. Over her shoulder, there was one strap of a blue bookbag like every student carried, over the other shoulder was a yellow gym bag and hanging from the gym bag was a small net sack containing a soccer ball, she smiled warmly.

“Now that you mention it, I haven’t actually, that's strange.” John seemed more to be talking to himself than to the girl, who was now opening her locker.

“I caught a glimpse of her going into the girl’s bathroom down by admin when I came past earlier,” Mulligan offered with a small shrug.

“Bonjour mon amie Peggy!” Lafayette greeted the girl with an enthusiastic hug, “Like honey badger, I have not seen mon cher Eliza, I was hoping to discuss our chemistry practical we are doing this morning, I may have been négligent of the reading expected of us beforehand. Oh! Pardon my manners, have you met Alexander yet?” Lafayette pointed to the teen stood beside him, the height difference and Alexander’s small frame meant he was drowning in Lafayette’s small uniform, fortunately, Martha had purchased him his own that morning in the right size and promised they'd be ready to wear by tomorrow.

“Lovely to meet you! I’m Peggy Schuyler! Love to stay and chat, but I really must find Eliza,” Peggy, who had finished at her locker, extended a hand for Alexander to shake, before sprinting off down the corridor.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Peggy!” Alexander called down the corridor behind her.

“Schuyler? As in related to Philip Schuyler?” Alexander asked Lafayette quietly, referring to the powerful senator.

“Oui! Philip has eight children, Angelica, Eliza, Peggy, Cornelia, John, Philip - an égocentrique name if you ask me” Lafayette began listing children, pausing to catch his breath before continuing, “Then we also have Cortlandt and petit Catherine.”

“Cortlandt, I have never heard that name before, and Catherine? Two children named after their parents, that is a little égocentrique actually, do they all go here?” Alexander mused.  
  
“We call her Court usually, kind of funny as she wishes to become a lawyer, a human rights lawyer to be more specific, she’s only 6 and she’s got more of a life plan than me, I’m signed up for an apprenticeship if dad gets his way, but I want more you know? I digress though, Cortlandt goes by Court” Hercules sighed.

“Oui mon cher, but she is a six-year-old Schuyler, not an ordinaire six year old” Lafayette once more kissed Hercules on the cheek.

“Catherine tells us that the medications during labour are to blame for the name choices of her children, Court is named after a distant grandmother or something, same with Cornelia” Whilst John talked, Alexander could not help but to notice the attractiveness of his breathy voice.  
  
“The oldest three girls, go here, they’re good mates of ours, in fact, Angelica can be a bit scary at times, she’s a senior so we don’t see her that often these days, too much studying. Then Eliza is in 10th grade with us, she’s lovely, Laurens’ best friend, they’d make an adorable couple if honey badger was into girls and then Peggy’s in grade 9, she’s a bit full on, think Hermione, but also playing multiple sports” Hercules explained

“Hermione?” Alexander asked, the boys were shocked, Lafayette feigned fainting, a dramatic hand to his forehead. They knew he’d come from a small island nation but had assumed everybody, everywhere had read Harry Potter.

“ C’est pas vrai! Have you not heard of Hermione? You have heard of Harry Potter oui?” Lafayette looked genuinely horrified by the boy’s question and his voice further conveyed this, he was now leant casually against the corner made by the end of the bank of blue lockers and cream walls meeting at a right angle  
  
“I’m sorry, no” Alexander replied, looking down, feeling ashamed, despite not knowing why he should.

“This cannot be mon ami! This cannot be!” Alexander had noticed that the more shocked, or dramatic Lafayette was, the stronger his accent became.

“I am truly sorry you did not grow up reading these amazing books” Hercules told the boy, hugging him close. “Tomorrow I’ll bring you in my set, you can borrow them” Hercules continued.

"No! Alexander may have my set tonight when we get home if you wish to borrow them that is, mon ami?" Lafayette offered, smiling hopefully at

“Honey badger! mon ami, you are in biology first lesson oui?” Lafayette asked John after glancing at the clock on the wall inside in a nearby classroom.

“Oui!” John replied in a fake exaggerated accent, earning him a playful punch on the shoulder from Lafayette.  
  
“You may escort mon ami Alexander to biology, make sure he does not get lost, oui?” Lafayette made puppy dog eyes to accompany his request, John Laurens nodded happily.  
  
“Of course Marie!” John laughed, as Lafayette hit him once again. Alexander was fixated on the wide smile on John’s face and the way he somehow managed to laugh without making a sound.

“Do not call me Marie.” Lafayette muttered, his eyes shooting daggers at John.

“One of his many names, seriously Laf has like 11 names, it’s crazy” Hercules bent down to quietly explain to Alexander, who already knew this, and was laughing quietly to himself.

“Do you want to, I mean uh, you could, would you like to, uh sit with me in class? I could show you where we’re up to and help you catch up, Bio is my best subject behind visual arts.” Nervousness was evident in John’s voice as he invited Alexander to sit with him in class.

“That sounds cool, I’d uh, I’d like that Laurens,” Alexander replied, an equal level of nerve in his voice.

Before any further conversation could ensue, a loud ringing signalled that they were to make their way to class. Lafayette headed one way, Hercules Mulligan sauntered off in the opposite direction and John directed Alexander down the hallway behind Mulligan, coming to the end of the corridor Mulligan took a left, whilst John and Alexander turned to the right.

“This is the biology lab,” John told Alexander as the neared the second door in the corridor, it was open, but unlike the door, they had just passed, the room was quiet.

Rows of ebony, two-person work benches with blue plastic chairs lined the classroom, the teacher’s desk was to the left of the room, it was immaculately neat. The cursive writing on multiple informational posters, covering subjects such as the laboratory rules added to the neat aesthetic of the room. Between those posters and large 3-dimensional diagrams on poster board, little of the sky blue painted walls was visible. Behind the rows of workbenches were more benches, these had gas taps and small sinks, Alexander presumed these were for practicals and experiments. Not a single student other than Alexander and John had arrived yet.

“Morning Miss Goldsberry, this is Alexander Hamilton, he’s new,” John greeted the young teacher stood in front of the smart board, she was tall, and not because of the wedge heels she wore, and slender, with sleek, straight black hair cascading past her shoulders.

“Nice to meet you, Alexander, I’m Miss Goldsberry, I teach biology and music, you boys are the first here, take your pick of seats.” The woman extended a hand to Alexander, which he shook, before handing over paperwork given to him by admin.

He then followed John to a black two-person workbench at the back of the room, all the desks were lower than Alexander had seen at other schools. Effortlessly, John maneuvered the plastic chair out of his way and lined up his own chair with the table edge.

“Did our least favourite little cripple finally find a friend? Aw how cute!” A boy whose hair bore a striking resemblance to that of Lafayette’s hair first thing in the morning, a mass of curls pointing every which way, greeted John, a disgusted look on his face.

John turned away from the boy, Alexander noted however that his hand curl into a fist under the table. He said nothing in response.

“Ignoring me are we Laurens?” The boy asked, banging a fist on the table, startling John into turning to face him.

“Go away, Jefferson.” John growled in response, eyes narrowing.

A boy appeared behind Jefferson, he was small, in a very scrawny way, more so than Alexander even.

“Stand up and make me.” Jefferson, laughing put his hand out to receive a high five from the boy behind him, who’s laughter then turned into a fit of coughing, his brown cheeks turning red from the exertion, he retreated to a chair at a workbench a few rows in front of Laurens and Hamilton.

“Alright, I will” Alexander rose from his seat, hands balled into fists, stepping out from behind the bench towards Jefferson, despite John’s arm on his sleeve, tugging, encouraging him to sit back down.

“You are going to make me? YOU? That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all da-” Jefferson could not finish his sentence, he was laughing so hard, as the boy, easily half his size, drowning in a much too big uniform, stood there, ready to fight him.

“You think I’m frightened of you man?” Alexander asked, there was a certain ferocity in his eyes, taking a further step towards the boy.

“Alex, he’s not worth it” John advised whilst removing his books from his backpack and placing them on the desk, but Alexander continued to advance.

Jefferson, all of a sudden thrust his foot into Alexander’s path, causing him to trip, hitting his head against the next workbench as he fell to the cream linoleum floor. Students who were filing into the classroom laughed.

“What’s going on here Thomas? Alexander are you okay?” Miss Goldsberry was now standing in front of the boys, arms crossed with a stern look on her face as she looked from Alexander on the floor, to Jefferson, the smug grin disappearing from his face as he met her eyes.

“Alexander tripped, I was just going to help him to his feet Miss.” Jefferson smiled innocently at Miss Goldsberry, extending a hand to Alexander.

Brushing aside Jefferson’s hand, Alexander stood up, the blood pouring from his nose was colouring the previously pristine white shirt.

John had moved forward, concerned for his new friend, “You didn’t have to do that Alex! Are you okay?” he asked, concern clear across his face.

“Settle down class, settle down.” Miss Goldsberry stood in front of the class, arms folded.

“Please take Mr Hamilton down to the nurse, Thomas,” she directed Jefferson, he nodded, exiting the classroom. Alexander followed a few strides behind.

The teenagers walked in silence, exchanging the odd glare, in place of interaction. Alexander held a tissue to his nose, that Miss Goldsberry had handed him as he walked out of the classroom, Jefferson was texting. They rounded another corner, Alexander looked back, anxiously to see if he’d left a trail of blood along the navy blue carpet; he had not.

Reaching the white staircase at the end of the hall, Alexander was careful to walk behind Jefferson in the interests of avoiding being tripped a second time.

The stairs came to a landing as they turned a corner, there was a large window, showcasing breathtaking views of the school’s grounds. Alexander had never seen grass so evenly green, or hedges so neat. Alexander stood, looking out across the grounds, taking in everything from the baseball diamond to the student parking lot, filled with convertibles, imported sports cars of every type.

“Hurry up Hamilton,” Jefferson huffed from the bottom of the stairs, arms folded, glaring.

Based solely on how Jefferson had treated John, even before he’d tripped him, Alexander had taken an instant dislike to Thomas Jefferson. Taking into account the request for him to hurry up, Alexander began to move in slow motion as he shuffled, at a painstakingly slow pace across the landing towards the stairs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading lovely human, have a brilliant day! Comments, particularly constructive criticism are greatly appreciated <3


	4. A Trip To The Nurse's Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst visiting the nurse's office for his injuries, Alexander Hamilton meets Eliza Schuyler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things before we begin, firstly Serena helped me write again and the lovely Thursdayfalling helped me edit, which is why this chapter has much better grammar than the previous. Thank you again for that! 
> 
> Next, when I name drop cast members, they're not actually intended to be accurate representations of the personalities of the cast members just btw, just using the names.
> 
> Also, I'm not american, my picture of the american high school comes from pop culture, research and talking to people, if anything seems off/wrong, feel free to let me know.

Alexander Hamilton apprehensively stood in the doorway of the nurse’s office. Behind him, Thomas Jefferson adjusted his tie, sighing impatiently before folding his arms and rolling his eyes at the interior of the room.

The nurse's office was pretty basic. There were two sets of curtains: one set open to reveal a bed, the other set closed. Alexander presumed this meant there was somebody behind the curtain, and the sound of retching and splashing confirmed it. There was little else in the large room but for a desk, a blood pressure machine, a small fridge/freezer combination and an eye test chart on the otherwise bare beige wall.

“Maybe we ought to give your parents a call, Eliza?” A voice spoke from behind the curtain.

“No, no, thank you,” A small, feminine voice pleaded in response, before once more throwing up. “I’ll be fine, really,” She continued, not sounding overly convincing or convinced. The girl, who Alexander assumed must be Eliza, sounded nervous.

Alexander began to feel guilty, as though he was eavesdropping. He reached up and knocked on the door.

Having heard the knock, a man stepped out from behind the curtain. He was tall, with a bulk of black curly hair atop his head and an emerald green stethoscope around his neck.

“I’d ask why you’re here, but it looks pretty self-explanatory, buddy. I’m Daveed, the nurse, by the way,” he greeted Alexander, ushering him inside onto the empty bed.

“Jefferson, do you have any injuries I need to look at?” He asked, eyes surveying the boy, who looked perfectly fine, not a hair out of place.

“Uh, look at me, what do you think?” Thomas replied. It was evident from his voice and his glare he did not want to be there.

“Back to class then, Mr Jefferson. Directly back to class.” Daveed had a stern look on his face.

When Thomas had left, Daveed turned to the small boy who sat on the edge of the bed, blood pouring down his face. A bruise had already begun forming on his forehead. “What’s your name, man?” he asked, not recognizing the student.

“Alexander Hamilton. I’m, uh, I’m new- it’s my first day, actually,” Alexander explained.

  
“First class of your first day and you’ve already pissed off Jefferson? What did you say? What did he do?” It was clear from Daveed’s voice that he did not like Thomas Jefferson.

“He called John Laurens a cripple, and John has been really nice to me, I’d like to be his friend. I was going to fight Jefferson, but he tripped me. I hit my head on the workbench as I fell.” Alexander’s hand curled into a fist as he talked.

“What a dick,” Daveed said. Alexander was shocked that a staff member would call a student a dick. The way his jaw dropped and his eyes widened exhibited this, much to his embarrassment.

“Look, half the injuries that come in here are because of that kid. Some of them are quite serious. He never gets in trouble, though — his father is rich and powerful so nobody can touch him. Daddy pays off anybody so there are never consequences for his actions, ever.” Daveed explained, clearly angered about Jefferson as he spoke.

Daveed crossed the room to retrieve ice from the fridge for Alexander and placed the paper towel encased bag of ice against Alexander’s forehead.

“Can you sit still and hold this to your head? I’ll be back shortly,” He asked. In response, Alexander reached up and held the ice to the egg forming on his forehead. Smiling at the boy, Daveed vanished back behind the other curtain, leaving Alexander to hold ice to his face.

Alexander was used to injuries — bruises, bloody noses, the occasional broken nose, fractured rib, or sprained wrist. It came with the territory when you were in the foster system. Sure there were the good homes, but where there is good, there is also bad, very bad.

“How are you feeling now, Eliza?” Daveed asked. He looked at Eliza; she was pale, still a little green. She hadn’t thrown up since Alexander entered, though, and she smiled at Daveed.

“I’m all good now, must have been something I ate last night. May I please get back to class?” Her voice was hopeful.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay, kiddo? It's not too late to call your parents,” Daveed asked her, collecting a handful of vomit bags from the holder on the wall and pressing them into her hand. “Just in case,” He said quietly.

“Yes. I’m totally okay now,” Eliza insisted, placing the bags inside her book bag and offering a small smile.

“Well, I can’t stop you. Come back if you start throwing up again.” Daveed sighed as the girl hopped off the bed and scurried out the door.

It suddenly dawned on Alexander that he would have to explain these injuries to the Washingtons. He was sure they would be angry at him, blame him, decide he was a bad kid, too much trouble, they'd send him back, he'd be back with somebody like Seabury, or maybe worse, this time he might not end up in the hospital, this time it could be the morgue. The room felt very hot to Alexander. It was getting hotter, and the lights in the room suddenly seemed blinding.

Alexander’s breathing began to quicken. His eyes widened, then shut tightly. He felt as though he couldn’t breathe. The world was all coming at him from too many directions, thoughts were swirling, spiralling. It was overwhelming, it wouldn’t stop.

Reaching up, Alexander covered his ears, “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up.” he mumbled to himself, his words blending together, a few tears leaking out and rolling down his cheek.

“Alexander? Can you hear me?” Daveed asked as he slowly approached the now trembling boy.

Alexander did not respond. His breaths were shallow, fast; his face was ghostly white, but his eyes did open.

“Alexander, if you can hear me, try and take a deep breath, in and out. Try and match your breathing with mine.” Daveed sat beside the boy, breathing deeply. Alexander tried to follow the instruction.

“Breathe in,” Daveed said, taking a deep breath in, pausing before exhaling. “Now out,” He told Alexander.

The room was silent but for an occasional sob from Alexander and periodic reminders to breathe in and out slowly.

“You are safe, Alexander,” Daveed assured the boy, noting that Alexander’s breathing was beginning to slow down, very gradually.

After quite some time, Alexander’s breaths were even and deep. He cast his gaze around the room, surveying his surroundings. His eyes focused on the vision chart, reading the letters over and over rhythmically in his head. It was calming.

“I - I’m sorry — I didn’t mean- I’m sorry,” Alexander spoke at a rapid pace, stuttering and stumbling over the words.

“It’s okay, kid, don’t apologise. It’s okay,” Daveed said.

“My nose has stopped bleeding!” Alexander exclaimed, “Does that mean I can go back to class?” He asked, not wanting to miss the entirety of his first lesson.

“Buddy, that’s maybe not the best idea,” Daveed suggested, sceptical if the boy who had recently been barely able to breathe for anxiety was okay to be going back to class straight away.

“I’m okay, really. I’m sorry about before, it’s nothing, I’m okay,” Alexander rushed over his response as he stood up and slung the blue bookbag over his shoulder.

“Before you can go, buddy, I gotta give you this nosebleed information card, a head injury card and double check you’re not concussed. While I do that, we can discuss getting you an appointment with the counsellor if you need.” Daveed handed Alexander some information cards he'd pulled from plastic drawers on the desk and took out a penlight to test the boy’s pupils.

After questioning him on his awareness of location, date, and current president, Daveed was confident the boy did not have a concussion.

“I don’t, uh, I really don’t need to — don’t need to see the counsellor, I’m okay, really, I’m fine.” Alexander was nervous as he stumbled out a jumbled response.

He’d seen school counsellors before; they’d only ever caused him more problems, and the depressing old couches in the depressing rooms with bare walls, bare desks and broken clocks on the walls stressed him out. Alexander didn’t think he needed counselling anyway. Counselling was for those who were mentally ill. He wasn’t, he just had panic attacks now and then.

“Hey, there’s no shame in seeing the counsellor, buddy. Most of the other kids do.” Daveed could see the shame and what he believed to be fear in the boy’s eyes. He tried to reassure him; he knew what it was like to be a teenager, he himself had not been a teenager that long ago. It was tricky.

“No, I don’t need it. May I please be excused to get back to class?” Alexander asked, moving towards the doorway.

“Come back if your nose starts to bleed or you have any of the symptoms on the card,” Daveed told the boy with a sigh, motioning that he could leave.

Alexander trudged out of the room. He had a sore leg. Nothing major, he had decided, so he was trying to make sure that nurse Daveed didn’t notice. Alexander made his way down the empty hallway. The blue corridor was lined with blue lockers. He thought to himself about how much of this school was blue. It was a nice shade of blue; he liked blue, it had been his mother’s favourite colour.

The thoughts in Alexander’s head began to race again. He was sure George and Martha would hate him, hurt him, return him so he could start the process all over again with a new family. His breathing quickened again.

“Alexander! What are you doing out of class? — Mon Dieu! Your face! What happened!?” Lafayette, who was walking out of the bathroom a few metres down the corridor from Alexander, had spotted his foster brother walking along. An egg was forming on the boy’s forehead, eyes blackening, nose bruising — he was concerned.

“In class, there was this boy, Jefferson,” Alexander began. A scowl appeared on Lafayette’s face immediately and he approached Alexander, started muttering and pacing, full of rage.

“Il est un bâtard stupide!” Lafayette’s incomprehensible mutters turned to an angered exclamation. “What happened? Be honest, are you okay?” Lafayette asked, suddenly serious.

“He called Laurens a cripple and laughed at him; Laurens told him to go away, so he told John to stand up and make him, he thought he was so funny so I- ” Alexander was once again cut off by Lafayette.

“So you stood up and made him?” Lafayette finished, a knowing look on his face.

“Yes, well I tried, the asshole tripped me before I could,” Alexander said, annoyed.

“Seriously, are you okay, mon ami?” Lafayette reached out and put his hand on the smaller boy’s shoulder. He’d not known Alexander very long at all but he already felt very protective of the boy, like they had always been brothers.

“I’m okay, Laf, I’m okay.” Alexander wasn’t sure as he repeated his words if it was himself or the other boy he was trying to assure. He gave a small thumbs up and a smile before adjusting the backpack strap on his shoulders.

“We better get back to class. Say ‘hi’ to honey badger for me. Au revoir!” Lafayette hugged Alexander and strolled off down the hall to class in the opposite direction.

Alexander turned on the spot, setting off for his own class. He was embarrassed to be arriving late looking as though he’d been in a fight but excited to see John Laurens again and to get stuck into learning. He had English next to look forward to; English was his best subject, especially writing. Writing had gotten him out of every bad situation so far, it was the one thing in his life yet to fail him or to leave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Constructive comments are incredible appreciated, as is your taking the time to read this, thank you :) Have a wonderful day, and if you want, come talk to me on tumblr, anthonybaemos.tumblr.com I love making friends :)


	5. “How have you not read Harry Potter?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander completes his first day at school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Oaktober/Octoburr! Thanks for ready my crappy lil fic.
> 
> Attempted to combine fluff and angst in one chapter, not convinced it worked so well. 
> 
> Let me know what you think.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~i'm really really bad at chapter titles~~

“Are you alright?” John Lauren’s whispered as Alexander, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, slid quietly into the seat beside him, head down.

“All good, Laurens,” Alexander assured the boy quietly. He reached down and took an exercise book and some pens from his bag before realising most students were using laptops.

Alexander was suddenly embarrassed, as he himself did not own one. He only had a few scrappy notebooks; the Washingtons had insisted they would take him shopping on the weekend.

“I’ll print you my notes and you can catch up from those if you’d like?” John offered, and Alexander could barely make out the words he was saying as he was too infatuated with the sound of his voice, so he nodded.

“So you’d like the notes?” John noticed that Alexander seemed distracted and decided to double check.

“Huh, what? Huh? Sorry,” Alexander was very confused as he snapped out of the daydreaming.

“I was asking if you’d like my notes to catch up from?” John reiterated.

“Oh, right, of course, yes, sorry, distracted. Yes please, sorry, please, would be very helpful,” Alexander was embarrassed, and when Alexander was embarrassed - or afraid, or nervous, or tired, or excited - the words spilled out quickly without much thought put into them, a jumbled repetitive mess.

“All good, dude,” John told Alexander with a smile, which unfortunately only distracted Alexander more.

By the end of the lesson, Alexander was terribly glad that John had been taking notes about Gregor Mendel and was willing to share, as he’d not absorbed a word, too mesmerised by John Laurens.

Alexander wasn’t sure what it was about John that was so distracting. After all, they’d only just met, and John was, well, he was a boy. Yet, at the same time, he knew exactly what it was. It was the way John’s curly hair bounced when he moved his head, the dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks, his Colgate commercial worthy smile, his soundless laugh, the warmth of his voice. It was everything.

“What’s your next class?” John asked, trying to read the timetable Alexander was holding from over his shoulder.

“English,” Alexander said simply, not wanting to ramble or stutter again.

“I have art now, it’s ground floor. English is level 1, wanna take the elevator with me? I’ll show you to the English classroom. Eliza is in English this period, which room are you? All the English classrooms are on level 1, but a few run at the same time.” John wheeled towards the elevator down the corridor as he talked to Alexander.

“It says here C017,” Alexander told John, who smiled.

“Good! Very good! That’s Miss Cephas Jones’ class, she is the best English teacher! Eliza is in her class as well, actually,” Alexander couldn’t help but notice John talked as much as he did, if not more.

“Oh, awesome,” Alexander replied, not meeting John’s face for fear he’d become lost in his eyes again.

“Did anybody explain the room numbers to you by the way?” John suddenly asked.

“Uh, no, not really,” Alexander admitted, though he wasn’t sure if they had and he just hadn’t remembered. He was walking behind John, the pain in his leg slowing him down.

“So it’s pretty easy, it starts with a letter from A to E, explaining which wing or block of the building - labelled on your map - then the floor number, so GF to 04 and then your room number, which ranges from 1 to probably, like, 20, honestly. This campus is insane, man.” John, who had been talking quickly, paused.

Standing beside John Laurens, waiting for an elevator, Alexander wondered if John’s fast-talking was because he was nervous. Alexander couldn’t think why he would be nervous though.

“So your classroom is in C block, level one, and room 7. C017. Simple, right?” John grinned at Alexander, just as a loud ding signalled the elevator’s arrival.

“Yeah, simple,” Alex replied, absentmindedly, mind too occupied with John’s smile. He tried to distract himself studying the interior of the elevator — the mirrors, the wooden rails, the blue floors — but compared to John’s smile, well, it was not worth looking at.

Alexander stepped out of the elevator into the corridor. This one did not have carpet, but polished, pale wood floorboards. Blue walls were lined with the same blue lockers as downstairs and an odd upholstered bench was dotted along the hallway on both sides.

John was waving to somebody. Alexander turned to see a girl at the door of a classroom — the girl from the nurse’s office. He wasn’t sure he’d remembered her name right, but he was pretty sure she was Eliza, the sister of Peggy from earlier in the morning, John’s best friend.

“ELIZA!” John shouted, happily, his voice even warmer than Alexander thought possible. “I didn’t see you this morning, are you okay?” John asked, embracing the girl in a hug.

“I was uh, not well, no big deal.” Eliza offered by way of explanation, glancing to Alexander quizzically, wondering if he’d mentioned seeing her at the nurse’s office, or if he would.

“Not well?” John echoed, concern creeping across his face.

“Throwing up a bit, first in the bathroom, then Peggy made me go to the nurse. Alexander was there, actually. I think it was just bad sushi from last night. I’m alright now, really John,” Eliza’s soft voice trembled slightly as she spoke in a way that made Alexander think she was hiding something, that more was going on.

“Are you sure it’s just the sushi?” John asked, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Yes. I’m certain. Drop it. I am fine. Drop it, John,” Eliza said, clearly annoyed.

“Well, okay, if you’re certain. I gotta get to art and continue to be a disappointment to my father, enjoy English,” John called, wheeling off down the corridor, leaving Alexander and Eliza to stand in awkward silence outside the classroom. The door was still locked.

The outer wall of the corridor was dotted with artwork at seemingly random intervals. Eliza was picking at her fingernails whilst staring at what Alexander deemed to be the most boring artwork in the corridor: a simple, small black dot centred on an otherwise white canvas.

“What’s so interesting about that canvas?” Alexander asked Eliza, in an attempt to break the silence.

“Oh, nothing really, I was thinking about things and well—” Eliza trailed off, unsure of how to finish; her mind was edging towards things she’d rather not think about, at all.

Watching Eliza closely, Alexander noticed she was a lot like she had been earlier, the way her breathing quickened, her eyes widened.

“Oh, fair enough. That one-two frames down is pretty great though.” Alexander tried to distract Eliza, referring to a humorous photograph of a small terrier dog in a sequined tuxedo.

  
“Oh, yeah, Gus is cute. Hey, speaking of dogs, I’ve always wanted a golden retriever. We had a labrador when I was younger, at my grandparent’s place, but Angelica and my brother John are allergic to dogs, so we can’t have one.” Eliza confessed suddenly, unsure of why she was telling this to a boy she barely knew.

“What about a golden retriever cross poodle? Or any kind of poodle or poodle cross?” Alexander suggested. His first foster family had owned a Schnoodle, the name sounded so strange to him, so he’d looked up poodle cross breeds and knew a fair bit.

“I’d not thought of that!” Eliza admitted just as a woman approached the classroom. In one hand she held a key on a lanyard, and in the other, a large coffee cup.

“Good morning, Eliza!” The woman greeted Eliza with a smile before turning to Alexander. “You must be Alexander Hamilton. Good to meet you. I’m Miss Cephas Jones, your English teacher. Come in, come in.” The teacher ushered the small gathering of students inside.

Alexander was in awe of the classroom. It had a wall of windows, on the wall opposite the door. The front of the room bore a smart board and a white board while the back wall was entirely made up of overstocked bookcases.

Unlike the biology lab, the English classroom had the kind of desk Alexander expected, a small desk attached to the chair.

  
“Do you wanna sit next to me?” Eliza offered, with a small smile. Alexander nodded, taking a seat beside her at the back of the classroom.

When the class had filed in, Miss Cephas Jones asked Alexander to introduce himself to the class. “How about you tell the class about yourself. Your name, some things you’ve done before coming here, that sort of thing.” She suggested.

Standing up at the desk, Alexander spoke, “My name is Alexander Hamilton and there's a million things I haven’t done, but just you wait.” Taking his seat, Alexander whispered, “Just you wait…” to himself, too low for anybody else to hear.

The rest of the English class was enjoyable and without incident, there was little chatter while the class focused. Miss Cephas Jones taught in a style that was alternative but captivated her student’s minds.

Fortunately for Alexander, Eliza Schuyler and Hercules Mulligan were in his next class: algebra. Alexander felt had he not had friends in the class, he may have died of boredom, they were learning things he had taught himself years ago. Alexander had been too nervous about school to eat breakfast. As a result, during the period approaching lunch, his stomach was rumbling away.

“This way, dude,” Mulligan guided, placing a hand on his new friend's shoulder, spinning him around, as Alexander had exited the classroom and walked in the wrong direction.

“I’ll catch up with you,” Eliza told the boys, pale again, scurrying to the bathroom three doors down.

  
“Are you oka—” Hercules went to ask, but it was too late, she was gone. “Did she look pale to you? She looked pale. Maybe she’s sick. I hope not. Should we wait for her?” Hercules rambled, worrying aloud. Hercules was, by all definitions, the “mom friend”; Lafayette had warned Alexander about this.

“She said she’ll catch up, and I don’t know about you, but I’m starving!” Alexander decided to protect Eliza’s privacy, she clearly did not want them knowing what was wrong.

“ALEXANDER! HERC! Over here,” Lafayette yelled from a table towards the back of the cafeteria. He was seated on the roundtable, not a chair, his legs crossed, french fry in hand; for some reason this was of no surprise to Alexander. Along with Lafayette, John Laurens, Peggy Schuyler & a dark-haired girl, Alexander did not recognise. The girl had no lunch tray, just a muffin in her hand, in front of her was a spread of textbooks and notebooks.

There were four spare seats between John and the girl. John Laurens motioned for Alexander to join him. As he sat down, he was surprised to notice John sitting on the seat attached to the table, his wheelchair behind him.

“Where’s Eliza?” John whispered to Alexander, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“She said she’d catch up,” Alexander told him. John seemed concerned by this information, face screwed up in frustration, texting so fast that Alexander could have sworn his fingers blurred together.

“So, Harry Potter night at mine on Friday? Alexander hasn’t seen Harry Potter,” Hercules announced to the table. Everybody nodded as if it was something that happened often.

“Tell me you’ve at least read it.” The girl Alexander didn’t recognise looked up from her textbooks, twirling a pen in her long fingers.

“Uh, no, sorry,” Alexander admitted with a sheepish grin.

“How have you not read Harry Potter ?” The girl asked, flabbergasted. It seemed to be rhetorical.

“My name is Angelica Schuyler, by the way. Yours?” The girl, Angelica, introduced herself to Alexander and offered her hand to shake across the table, still twirling her pen in the other.

“Alexander Hamilton,” He told her, shaking her hand firmly.  
___________

“Alexander! What happened?!” Martha practically screamed as Alexander followed Lafayette through the front door that afternoon, his bruised face obvious from the next room.

“I, uh, I hit my head, um, tripped, it’s, nothing, nothing at all, just a fall, I’m fin-” Alexander babbled in response, shaking a little as he hovered awkwardly in the entry hallway.

“You sure you’re okay dear?” Martha asked, Alexander, nodded and scurried upstairs.

  
“Is he okay, Laf?” Martha turned to her son once Alexander was out of earshot.

“Mère très chère, Alexander is okay, he said he was okay oui? We must trust Alexander if we want him to trust us” Lafayette hugged his mother, planting a kiss on her cheek before also heading upstairs. Martha returned to her office.

Lafayette paused briefly outside Alexander’s door, he could hear hyperventilating from behind the closed door. Lafayette stepped forward and reached up to knock, he then changed his mind, stepping back, then forward again deciding he should knock. The hyperventilating got louder, Lafayette knocked again, no response.

“Alexander, I’m opening the door now, that’s okay oui?” Lafayette paused briefly but received no response. When Lafayette inched open the door, he couldn’t see Alexander. His eyes darted around the room, settling on the heartbreaking sight of Alexander.

With his knees pulled up to his chest, Alexander sat in the corner of his bedroom, trembling, hyperventilating and crying. His eyes were wider, more terrified than anything Lafayette had ever seen.

“Alexander?” Lafayette said. No response. Alexander continued to tremble, recoiling into himself, away from Lafayette. Lafayette stopped, halfway across

“Can you hear me, Alexander?” Alexander did not respond.

Alexander tried to open his mouth, but no words would come out, he could barely compose a coherent string of words. Thoughts and worries swirled around his head like a hurricane.

“Alexander, mon petit ami, it is okay if I sit?” Lafayette asked, after a few moments with no response, positive or negative, from Alexander, Lafayette sat with him.

“You are breathing too fast Alexander, it will make you feel worse, can you try to breathe slower with me?” Lafayette received a tiny nod from Alexander. “Okay, breathe in, un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq” Lafayette inhaled deeply, counting as he did so. Lafayette exhaled slowly, “And out, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix,” Alexander was trying to follow but still breathing far too quickly. Lafayette counted with Alexander, breathing, for what felt like an eternity, “Now slower again, in, un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix.” Lafayette took an even deeper breath, holding it, before counting as he breathed out for 10 seconds. Alexander was finally calmer.

“I, this is, I’m sorry, all my fault, shouldn’t have, my fault, sorry, stupid, an idiot.” Alexander was muttering to himself, incoherently.

“Alexander, should we talk about this? Do not forget to keep breathing slowly oui?” Lafayette asked.

“No, no! It’s okay. I’m fine. I’m really fine. It’s nothing.” Alexander’s mumbled excuse was not as reassuring as he had intended. As he spoke, he curled his arms into his chest, withdrawing as though he was trying to disappear altogether.

Shuffling across the carpet, Lafayette put an arm on Alexander’s shoulder, “Non! You are not okay Alexander, you are not. It is okay not to be okay Alexander. We can help, you just need to tell us what’s going on. It is going to be okay. We won’t send you away.” There was a calmness and an understanding in Lafayette’s voice, suggesting he had been in Alexander’s situation before.

“I’m not, I’m not broken-” Alexander started to talk, but collapsed into tears, trailing off. At the precise moment, Alexander began to cry again, Martha knocked at the open door.

“Alexander dear, are you in here? I’ve got an afternoon snack for you.” Martha stood in the doorway, she carried a plate with cookies and a glass of juice. Nobody responded to Martha.

“Boys, what’s going on? Alexander, can I come in?” Martha asked upon seeing Alexander sobbing beside Lafayette. Lafayette was patting Alexander’s back in an attempt to comfort him; it was not, however, an overly successful attempt.

“I, uh- it’s nothing, come in Mrs Washington.” Alexander’s voice wavered as he tried to cover up his distress.

“You can call me Martha, dear.” Mrs Washington told Alexander, taking a seat in front of the boys, in the desk chair. “Cookies anybody? Then one of you can explain what’s going on, I’m going to find out, so you may as well just tell me.” Martha smiled, offering the plate of chocolate chip cookies to Lafayette and Alexander.

Alexander, no longer trembling, began to breathe quickly again, his eyes dancing around the room. “Nothing is going on, Mrs Wa- I mean Martha, I’m sorry!” Alex’s anxiety increased as he corrected himself, a mistake like this in his previous foster home had meant bad news.

Instinctively, Alexander drew into himself, making himself small, protecting vital organs from the punches his brain subconsciously expected.

“Something is going on, and that’s okay Alexander, but we can’t help you if you don’t tell us what, we only want to help you.” Martha smiled kindly at Alexander, he remained silent.

“I don’t need hel-” Alexander began.

“Non! You do Alexander. I am sorry mon petit ami, but you do. If you won’t tell mère, then I will” Lafayette had cut Alexander off.

“Won’t tell me what? It’s okay, you’re not in trouble” Martha asked Alexander, who was becoming more anxious by the second.

“I, uh.” Alexander began, stopping to try and slow his breathing. “I had. I got, panicky. I thought-” Alexander seemed to stop for breath, but didn’t continue.

“You thought?” Martha prompted gently.

“I thought. Uh. I would.” Alexander had tears forming in his eyes, he picked at the skin around his fingernails absentmindedly. “I thought I would get in trouble.” Alexander suddenly spoke so fast he could barely be understood.

“Oh Alexander, you’re not in trouble, dear. Why ever did you think you would be in trouble?” Martha asked her foster son. She was shocked that the boy, having done nothing wrong - that she was aware of - was so scared he would be in trouble. Martha and Lafayette both knew why Alexander was scared of being in trouble, they just didn’t want to think it could be true.

“I, uh, in the other. In the other foster. The other foster homes, they were, they didn’t. It was my fault. They h-” Alexander rambled, quickly, his breaths fast and often, his speech was jarred and repetitive, he couldn’t finish his sentence, bursting once more into tears.

“It’s okay Alexander, you’re safe here.” Martha told him, as Lafayette hugged his foster brother.

It was what felt like hours to Alexander before he felt safe and calm again. Martha informed him it had only been 15 minutes.

“Laf, can I talk to Alexander for a moment?” Martha asked, he nodded and went back his room. Putting on a loud hip hop cd to drown out the conversation Martha and Alexander were going to have.

“Alexander, may I sit down here with you?” Martha asked, in response, Alexander nodded, and offered a small smile.

Martha took a seat on the floor next to Alexander, her legs outstretched in front of her. She was wearing a tight fitted dress and high heels: still in her work clothes, not the most comfortable attire for floor sitting.

“Alexander, I think that seeing a psychologist might help you to work through some of this anxiety and process what happened in the other homes. It’s your choice, but I do believe it will help you and mean that things are easier to deal with.” Martha was direct, to the point.

“I’m not sure,” Alexander confessed, biting his fingernails without realising. “What if they don’t like me, or they think I’m weird, or crazy, or broken, or that it was my fault,” Alex said.

“That’s okay dear, you don’t have to decide right now. If you decide to go ahead, and you try a therapist and they’re not the right fit, there is always the option to try a new one, until we find somebody who works for you, by the way. There’s no shame in seeing a psychologist, it doesn’t mean you’re crazy, broken, or weird, nor that you’re to blame for what happened Alexander because that was not your fault, I can promise you that.” Martha replied, giving Alexander a reassuring smile, before reaching up and handing him the plate of cookies from the desk.

“These are oatmeal and raisin, these are chocolate chip,” Martha indicated with her hand as to which cookies were which.

“So, I can think about it for a while? Thank you, Mrs Wash- Martha, thank you, Martha.” Alexander asked and Martha nodded.

“Take some time to think about it, and we can talk again tomorrow, come to me earlier if you need, dear.” Martha smiled at Alexander, standing up, steadying herself on the white desk.

As Martha left the room, she straightened up the bed covers and the throw pillows. “Call out if you need anything Alexander, I’ll just be downstairs in my study,” Martha told Alexander as she left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks muchly for reading!
> 
> Comments and criticism greatly appreciated! 
> 
> If you wanna come chat/rant/ramble about hamilton or literally anything come to my tumblr, I'm on tumblr faaaar too much, anthonybaemos.tumblr.com. 
> 
> ok i'll shut up now.


	6. Harry Potter Movie Marathons and Berttie Botts Every Flavour Beans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a Trigger Warning for sexual assault, so if that may in anyway upset you, please skip it. Here's a little summary if you're skipping. Alexander, Lafayette, Hercules and the Schuyler Sisters join John Laurens at his house for a Harry Potter movie marathon. Later, after John and Alexander share an unexpected kiss, a clearly distressed Eliza confides in them about events of a recent party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter has taken a while, but hey, it's longer. Please be aware this chapter has a trigger warning for mention of sexual assault, if you need to, please skip it and refer to the summary if you need to.

for a reason he couldn’t quite understand, Alexander felt he had to look good seeing John Laurens. Luckily, Lafayette had been given free reign of George’s credit card to take Alexander shopping Friday evening.

Alexander had only planned to buy a few things- shoes that weren’t worn out, maybe some pants, a few tees and a hoodie. That would be it.

Next thing Alexander knew, Lafayette was running around the store, holding things up. “You like this, oui? Fantastique, me too! We will buy it.” Lafayette was throwing clothes into the shopping cart left, right, and centre as they headed for the change rooms. A lot of things had hung awkwardly on Alexander’s skinny body or fallen down. This pleased him, then there were fewer things to argue out of buying. In the end, they bought more clothes than Alexander could ever imagine one person owning.

After breakfast on Saturday morning, Alexander had stood before his overflowing closet for what seemed an eternity trying to find an outfit. He’d never cared for clothes before, just put on whatever was relatively clean, though he’d never had so much to choose from. He’d also never had anybody he wanted to impress in this way.

Lafayette walked past as Alexander was deliberating about his own outfit, he was wearing bright red sweatpants, and a t-shirt with the words “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” Alexander settled on a t-shirt decorated with a quill and inkpot with some chinos.

“Alexander, you are ready, oui? We have to leave or we will be late.” Lafayette burst into Alexander’s room, two grocery bags of food in his left hand, car keys in the right.

The teenagers were heading to John Lauren’s house, for a Harry Potter movie marathon. When they arrived, Alexander was surprised that three of the Schuyler girls were there; there was also a girl he didn’t recognise, she looked almost like a slightly smaller copy of Eliza.

Even more surprising to Alexander was the theatre room. An archway of the library with black curtains lead to a room with beanbag chairs. The lighting was low, there were no windows, and a full size cinema screen took up nearly an entire wall.

Further again to Alexander’s surprise was the assortment of food on tables to the side- strangely shaped purple boxes with something he’d never heard of called chocolate frogs, red and white boxes containing ‘Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans’, he hadn’t heard of these either. Of course, there was the normal snacks, popcorn, fresh from a popcorn machine and soda, though alongside the soda was a bottle labelled 'Butterbeer'. Apart from butterbeer, whatever that was, these were the things Alexander expeced as movie snacks, though he was only judging of what he'd seen in Tv shows and movies.

“Hi! I’m Cornelia Schuyler, you must be Alexander, a pleasure to meet you.” The smaller girl Alexander did not recognise stepped towards Alexander and extended a hand, beaming at him.

“Alexander! You’re here, very good, grab your snacks and let the magic begin!” Angelica announced pressing a button on a remote controller.

As the movie began everybody scrambled to take their seats. Alexander sat between John Laurens and Peggy Schuyler, Eliza to John’s left. Lafayette and Hercules pulled their beanbags close to sit practically on top of each other, beside them Angelica and Cornelia were settling into beanbags with plenty of snacks.

“Have we told Alexander the rules?” Hercules turned around in the red beanbag to speak to John.

“Rules?” Alexander echoed.

“So the rules are; phones off- not on silent, off- you are to get your snacks at the start of the movie, bathroom breaks that are not emergent and snack refills must wait until the end of the movie where we have a 10-minute break.” Hercules sounded as though he’d been over the rules a thousand times when talking about snack refills he directed a glare to Lafayette, who smiled sheepishly.

“Sounds like you’ve done this before,” Alexander said. Hercules glared at Lafayette again, nodding.

“We have...Well, we have a lot of movie marathons. Today only three, maybe four movies, though. I need to be home by 6, and you and Laf need to get home on time as well. Laurens needs to go to bed, he’s got a baseball game in the morning, and I have a load of studying to do, man.” Hercules explained.

“Herc, you are such a mom,” Angelica told him. He just laughed, tossing popcorn at her.

Alexander’s eyes were glued to the screen from the moment the movie started. He couldn’t look away, not even when John Laurens offered to share his popcorn with him.

“So,” Angelica turned to Alexander, drawing out her ‘O’, and asked, “What did you think?”

“It was amazing! Incredible, the special effects and the story and the acting- it was all just brilliant, I loved it,” Alexander gushed excitedly.

“Told you he would love it, Herc,” Angelica told the boy in the snapback hat matter of factly.

“Okay, you were right,” Hercules admitted defeat with a sigh, handing a $10 bill to Angelica. As did Cornelia.

“This is the last of my allowance, you know,” She told her older sister.

“Shouldn’t have bet wrong, then.” Angelica had no sympathy for the young girl. The big brown puppy dog eyes looking up at her from the bean bag did not work.

“You had a bet on mon frère, without moi?” As Lafayette spoke in mock offence, his accent thickened.

“Precisely. Because he is, as you say, your brother, you had too much opportunity to rig it.” Angelica replied.

“Have you tried a Bertie botts yet, Alex?” Peggy asked, giggling as she offered him the box.

“No, I haven’t. Thank you, Peggy.” Alexander smiled to her as he picked out a bean. It was light blue, or maybe white; in the low lighting he couldn’t quite tell. He figured white was the safest of his options. As he lifted the bean to his mouth, John looked away, Lafayette giggled, and Hercules fell off his bean bag laughing. Eliza was the only one not laughing, Alexander wasn’t even sure she was paying attention to what was happening.

“Good luck, bro,” Herc said to him, trying to suppress the laughter.

Alexander closed his eyes and bit into the bean, immediately spitting it out without thinking. It landed in Lafayette’s hair. Like Alexander’s, his face contorted in disgust.

“What is that? Soap?! A SOAP flavoured bean? SOAP?” Alexander was absolutely horrified.

“My HAIR! How could you do this to moi?” Lafayette exclaimed, equally horrified as he scrambled for the doorway. “You are lucky that you are my brother, otherwise I would kill you. Oui, I did say kill!” Lafayette shouted from the bathroom.

While waiting for Lafayette, Peggy passed around the box of Bertie Bott's every flavour beans.

“Bertie Botts, Eliza?” John offered Eliza the box but received no response. Eliza’s attention was clearly elsewhere and her gaze, unblinking, was fixed on the door handle. Gently, John tapped Eliza’s shoulder, she jumped so much that she almost fell off the beanbag.

“Oh gosh, don’t scare me like that, John!” She exclaimed and he passed the box towards her, “No thanks, not really hungry.” She mumbled. Instantly, Peggy leapt from her beanbag, rushing across to Eliza, placing a hand on her forehead.

“Somebody call 911! Eliza’s not hungry! This never happens.” She laughed before her face became serious. “Are you okay, Eliza, seriously?” She asked, whispering. Eliza nodded.

“So, Laurens,” Lafayette began as he returned, taking a seat in the bean bag, leaning on his elbows. Chin resting on his palms, he turned around to face John. “Mon Père rang, he and ma mère have to go out of town for work. They will be away for all of the weekend, they wondered if we - Alexander and I - could stay with you until monday morning?” Lafayette batted his eyelashes at John while asking, causing the boy to laugh.

“Of course, dude,” John told him, smiling, “Anybody else wanna stay? We can make it a party! Dad’s out of town, too, till very late tomorrow evening, but Martha is around, and all the staff.” John offered, turning to Alexander he added, “Martha is my older sister.”

“We can’t, I’m babysitting the little ones while Mom goes out to dinner with Father tonight!” Angelica said, sighing.

“Angelica are you sure we can’t stay tonight without you?” Cornelia asked, puppy dog eyes in use once more.

“Yeah, can’t we stay tonight? Please!” Peggy added.

“Peggy, you have a soccer game at 9am, you need to sleep. Laurens needs to sleep early because of his game and Eliza has a history essay to study for. Cornelia, I’m sure you have studying to do, and you promised Catherine a bedtime story tonight, remember?” Angelica’s answer was not popular with her sisters.

“Aw, fine.” Cornelia muttered, annoyed.

“You make sense, sis,” said Peggy, sighing.

“Herc, you staying dude?” John asked.

“Who else will make you idiots sleep at a reasonable hour? I’ll have to drive home and pick up some stuff- toothpaste, a toothbrush, homework, clothes and everything- as I’m sure Laf and Alex need to. We’re all gonna be in bed early, or I’ll be very annoyed,” Hercules mothered.

By the time the group had finished their third movie, Harry Potter and the Prisoner Of Azkaban, everybody was yawning, stretching, and rubbing their eyes. Lafayette was grimacing as he tried to move his legs, which were asleep after being crossed for so long. At Hercules’ insistence, they’d taken a break after the second movie to have lunch and stretch, meaning it was just after 5:30 by the time they finished.

“Thanks, Laurens, nice to see guys. Cornelia, hurry up, we have to be home at six, come on.” Angelica yelled hurried goodbyes and thanks over her shoulder as she attempted to herd her sisters out the door.

“I’ll go make up the guest rooms upstairs?” offered Hercules.

“Thanks, dude. Put Laf in his usual, you can have yours, and Alex can take Eliza’s.” John instructed and Hercules left the room. Between the size of the house and the influential position in the government John’s father held, it was no surprise to Alexander that there were multiple guest rooms for each of John’s friends, probably more for his sister’s friends.

“Good evening Master Laurens, dinner will be served at half seven in the dining room. You will be having Margherita pizzas.” A woman in a black outfit and apron that implied she was a maid smiled as she informed John of dinner arrangements before turning to leave.

“We are to be eating you on pizza, Peggy? S’il vous plaît, non! I will get sick!” Lafayette gasped, feigning horror.

“Thanks, Alice. It’s John though, please. Laf, you know Peggy hates being called Margarita. Shut up, man.” John addressed Alice politely, not the way Alexander had seen staff treated in his previous foster homes.

Peggy poked her tongue out at Lafayette, “I hope the pizza does make you sick,” she told him before following the exasperated calls of Angelica out of the library.

“Well dudes, I really need to study. I’m going home to get my stuff. Laf and Alex, wanna come? We can go to your place after mine and get your PJs, toothbrushes, and, most importantly, your school work,” Hercules offered, holding up the car keys.

“Oui! allons y! Come on, Alexander!” Lafayette called out and soon the three boys were driving along in Herc’s jeep, blasting hip-hop music over the radio.

It was a surprise to Alexander as they pulled up outside a set of small terraces. Judging from the Washington's and Laurens’ houses, Alexander had just assumed that Hercules would inhabit a similar mansion.

“Alexander, you are coming, oui? Allons y! We do not have all day, mon frère,” Lafayette called as he followed Hercules up the front stairs.

“Hercules! Are you home already? Oh Laf, lovely to see you,” Hercules’ mother greeted the boys at the door with a friendly smile, dressed in nursing scrubs. “Oh, you must be Alexander, dear. So nice to meet you! I’m Sarah, Herc’s mother. Welcome, come in, come in!” As she ushered the boys she embraced Alexander in a gentle hug.

“Sarah! C'est bon de te revoir!” Lafayette kissed Sarah on the cheek.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Alexander mumbled, smiling and sheepishly following Lafayette and Hercules.

“I’m just grabbing my stuff and going to stay with Laurens tonight, is that okay, mother? I’ll get these knuckleheads into bed early, make sure their teeth are cleaned, flossing occurs, and studying is at least attempted.” As Hercules called out to his mother from the wooden staircase, Alexander laughed. He was living up to the “Mom Friend” title more and more.

“You’re a such a nerd, Herc,” Sarah told her son with a laugh. In response, Hercules stuck his tongue out and continued to ascend the stairs.

“Allons Y, Alexander. Allons y!” Hercules called in a mock French accent, receiving a whack from Lafayette.

“Oh, you want me to come upstairs? Sorry.” Alexander looked at the floor, embarrassed. He had assumed they’d want him to wait by the door.

Along the wall beside the staircase hung photo after photo of Hercules, his mother, a man who looked as though he could be Herc’s father and a much younger girl, with orange hair, pale skin and freckles, no older than 7. The four were posed like a family in almost every shot. Some were just of Sarah and her husband on their wedding day. There were candid snapshots of Herc growing up, and of him with the younger redhead girl, together, posed like siblings for portraits and candid photos of the pair playing and laughing.

“This way, petite Alexander,” Lafayette instructed.

At the top of the stairs, there were three doors. Hercules went into the first of them. The room was not overly large, it was decorated with Harry Potter merchandise. Until Alexander spotted the red-headed girl on the top bunk reading Harry Potter dressed in a Gryffindor robe, he wondered how Hercules had convinced her to let him decorate the shared room.

“Cassiopeia, have you seen my overnight bag?” Hercules called to the girl whilst digging through the closet.

“Herc, I’m busy,” Cassiopeia whined, gesturing at her book and glaring.

“But Cass, I need your help!” Hercules answered.

Picking up a Harry Potter wand, Cass waved it in Herc’s direction “Silencio!”

“Alright, fine, I’ll just take your overnight bag,” Hercules muttered as he shoved clothes and textbooks into a Harry Potter style trunk. As he helped Herc lug the trunk out of the room, Lafayette turned to Alexander.

“Les fille est Hercules’ sœur,” Lafayette told him quietly, Herc looked confused.

“The girl is Hercules’ sister.” Alexander translated.

“Correct, Cass is my adopted sister. Her birth parents were from Ireland,” He elaborated. “Okay Cass, you get the room to yourself tonight. Please don’t be up reading under the covers all night though, kiddo. Bye.” He reached up and ruffled the girl’s hair, she hit him with her book.

“To your place now! You drive.” Hercules handed the car keys to Lafayette and double checked his seatbelt. “Got your seat belt on correctly, Alex?” He asked.

Lafayette hit Hercules, “My driving is not that bad, oui?” he asked Alex, who sheepishly nodded.

Hercules held the handle above the window the whole way back, riding shotgun next to Lafayette. While Lafayette’s driving was efficient, he took the most strategic routes, avoiding traffic, he was rather fast around corners. The boys arrived back in time for a Mario Kart championship before dinner, somehow Alexander won, beginners luck he supposed.

The dining room was impressive to Alexander, high ceilings, an incredibly long table set with candles, a table runner, and quite possibly the shiniest silverware ever to exist.

Sitting at the table that was fit to be in Buckingham Palace, Alexander couldn’t help but think pizza would seem a little out of place. When the pizza was served, on fancy plates and looking as though it had been prepared by the world’s fanciest pizza chef, Alexander no longer thought it out of place. A decadent tiramisu cake followed the pizza, which the boys all had seconds of, a decision Hercules warned against and they all regretted.

After dinner, Hercules and Lafayette retired upstairs to do homework, or more likely for Hercules to do homework and Lafayette to bug him. This left Alexander alone with John. For a long time, the boys sat in the formal living room, drinking coffees and talking about everything, astounded at how easily and naturally the conversation flowed.

Later that evening, Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens sat in the spacious library of John’s house. There was a gentle drizzle of rain outside, and the moonlight cast a dim glow into the room through the large windows. John couldn’t help but to think how romantic it was.

“So, how come the ceilings are so high in here?” Alex asked, looking up at the grand, almost eerie high ceiling.

“When the builder was drawing up the plans on The Sims 4, he pressed the highest wall height and didn’t know how to undo it, so he went with it, obviously,” John told Alexander with a grin.

Alexander was laughing at the joke John had told when it happened. He just went for it. John leaned in and kissed Alexander, and in response, Alex reached out, putting his hand behind John’s head, kissing him back.

“Laurens, I like you a lot,” Alex told the boy before him, a grin spreading across his face.

“You— you do? You mean, that was okay that I did that? You just looked so cute, and then your laugh and I just couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry, Alex.” John was mumbling and talking very quickly, but quickly interrupted as Alexander’s lips were on his once more.

“Does that answer your question?” Alexander laughed as he looked at John’s face, there was a smile spread from ear to ear, and a look in his eye, something Alexander couldn’t quite place but he thought to be happiness.

“So what does this mak-” John began to ask Alexander what the kiss had meant in terms of their friendship, but was interrupted as the door opened.

Eliza Schuyler went to step inside, but upon seeing the boys she mumbled a hurried apology and began to leave. “Sorry, Alfred let me in, he s-said you were in here, I’m so so s-sorry, I’ll go now, bye, sorry,” Eliza explained the butler let her in before turning to scurry away.

John could see the girl had been crying. “Eliza, wait, come back!” he called out, and she turned, facing him. John could see something was very wrong.

Eliza was a mess, her makeup smudged, hair plastered to her face with either tears or sweat. Her whole body was shaking; she looked terrified and tears streamed down her face.

Alexander made his way across the room, reaching for Eliza’s hand. “Eliza, come sit down, what happened?” Eliza recoiled as she felt his hand on her own, sliding down the door, collapsing on the floor in tears.

John quickly made his way across the room, transferring out of the wheelchair to sit beside her on the floor, leaving space between them so he didn’t make her uncomfortable. Alex fetched a box of tissue from the side table and sat down with his friends.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alex asked her

“Who am I killing?” John asked and Alex noted that this did not sound like a joke, at all.

Despite the circumstances and the fact that they had been best friends since childhood, Alexander couldn’t help feeling jealous at the way Eliza collapsed into John, the way he held her to his chest as she cried, the way he stroked her hair and spoke in such a soothing voice, telling her it would be okay. He knew it was wrong to feel jealous, and yet that was how he felt.

“I need to‑ I need to talk to you, John. At the party, Maria’s party, I was… He… I...” Eliza began, trailing off into hiccuping sobs and terrified trembling.

“Slow down, ‘Liza, breathe,” John instructed, calmly.

“I said no.” Eliza mumbled between sobs, “I said no but he did it anyway, I shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, this is all my fault, I kept saying no and he just didn’t stop, I felt so helpless,” Eliza’s voice wavered, sounding broken and hopeless. She scratched at the inside of her wrist as she spoke.

“Don’t ever think for one second that this was your fault Eliza, you didn’t want this.” Alex knew nothing he could say would help, he knew people telling him it wasn’t his fault his mum died didn’t help. It didn’t change things, but here he was saying the exact same thing to Eliza. There are moments the words don’t reach.

Eliza could hear that John and Alex were speaking, feel their presence, but they were distant, she couldn’t comprehend their words, she couldn’t think, her mind just wanted to replay what had happened again and again and again. Eliza’s breathing became shallow and rapid. She shook, her eyes screwed up tight and hands clamping over her ears.

The next thing Eliza knew, she had a pillow under her head, her body curled in the fetal position and her arms around her knees. The pillow was wet with tears but she was trembling less.

Somebody was wiping her forehead with a cool cloth and singing a soothing song. John was sat beside her, holding her hand, telling her over and over that she was safe, that she would be okay.

“I’m not okay, John, I’m not. I’m not safe and I AM NOT OKAY,” Eliza yelled suddenly, throwing the box of tissues from beside her face at the wall with as much force as she could. The next thing to go flying was the pillow.

“Do you need more things to throw?” Alexander asked.

Tears streaming down her face, Eliza nodded.

Alexander found an assortment of cushions from the couches, a broken television remote and a plethora of empty soda cans and coke bottles; nobody had cleaned up after their Harry Potter movie marathon yet, which in the end was hosted at John Laurens’ place.

Eliza cried, screamed, and threw things until she was too tired and dehydrated to continue.

“What can I do for you, Eliza?” John asked his best friend.

Eliza responded by curling into John, burying her face in his side.

“I don’t know what to do, John,” Eliza whispered, her voice shaking. “I don’t know what to do. Why me? What did I do? Why?” Eliza asked.

“Oh Eliza, you didn’t do anything. We’ll figure this out, but first, we have to tell a grown-up.”

Eliza jumped at this suggestion, recoiling into herself in fear. Her head was shaking furiously. “No. No. No. No. No. No. No. NO. NO. NO.”

“Okay, Eliza, it’s okay, we can work this out, it’s okay,” John assured her. “Maybe we should get you home,” John suggested, thinking about the fact it was almost midnight and Eliza’s curfew was 11:30.

“No, get away, I don’t deserve you helping me.” Eliza pulled away from John. “I don’t deserve your kindness, it was all my fault. I deserved what happened. Just stop. Stop being nice to me. Stop caring about me. I’m not worth it. Stop.” With these words, Eliza stormed out of the room.

“Eliza wait,” John called, but it was too late, moments later the boys, halfway out of the room trying to catch up, heard a door slam.

“Should we?” Alexander motioned to John’s car keys.

“No, I don’t think Eliza wants company right now. I don’t want to upset her further. And if she goes up to her room it’s not like I can follow her upstairs….” John trailed off, both of them knowing why he couldn’t go upstairs.

“So, you’re not going to do anything?” Alex asked, confused.

“I’ll give her an hour or so to calm down and send a text I think,” John told the boy, moving back towards the couch.

When Eliza Schuyler arrived home, her mother Catherine was seated inside the front door, on the foot of the staircase in her pyjamas and a fleecy robe.

“You weren’t even supposed to be out Eliza! It’s past curfe- Eliza, what’s wrong?” Catherine had intended to reprimand her daughter for being out past her curfew, unusual behaviour for Eliza. Instead, she found herself concerned for her daughter.

Eliza was clearly upset, her makeup was smudged in a way suggestive of crying, and she was shaking, despite the jacket she was wearing.

“It’s - It’s nothing. I’m fine, ” Eliza tried to shrug it off, heading for the stairs, but Catherine stood up, putting a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“You can talk to me, Eliza. Whatever this is, you’re not alone. I will always be here to listen and to help you, baby.” Catherine hugged her daughter as she spoke.

“Mom, it’s nothing, really. I had a fight with John, it’s okay now. I’m okay. May I please go to bed?” Eliza did her best to speak calmly, in an attempt to convince her mother she was in fact fine.

“If you’re sure..” Catherine trailed off, sounding unconvinced, but, having almost 18 years parenting experience, she knew this was not a time to push things any further.

Catherine followed her daughter up the stairs, running a hand through her sleek brown hair and sighing.

Eliza shut her door when she entered her room. Catherine continued up the stairs further, to her room and her bed, where her husband Philip was sitting up, his back up against the striped plush bed head, his legs under the green quilt, reading a stack of documents.

“Everything alright, dear?” Philip asked his wife, taking off his glasses and putting the documents on the bedside table. He looked at the stress on his wife’s face and the bags under her eyes.

“I really don’t know Philip. I do not know. Eliza won’t talk to me. Eliza has always talked to me, for years she’s told me everything,” She said with a sigh, reaching out and pulling the cord to turn off the lamp.

“Shall I try to talk to her?” Philip offered.

“You can try- in the morning though, maybe? Goodnight, my love.” Catherine kissed her husband on the cheek before laying down.

“Goodnight, Catherine,” Philip replied, also laying down.

Eliza sat against her closed bedroom door, her knees drawn to her chest, tears rolling down her cheeks. There was a glimpse of the nearly full moon through the half-open curtains. Tears streaming down her face on and off, not moving, Eliza sat until the sun came up, ignoring her phone’s incessant buzzes, not sleeping. Just staring.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I am sorry for poor Eliza's storyline. I am sorry. Constructive criticisms appreciated


	7. Coffee and Contemplation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets a bit angsty, i'm sorry.

Over a plate waffles at the grand dining table, John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton spoke in hushed voices. Not wishing to wake Hercules or Lafayette.

“Coffee, Master Hamilton?” Asked Alice, the maid as she stood beside Alexander, holding a coffee pot.

“Oh yes, please!” He replied, stifling a yawn, he’d barely slept, worrying about Eliza despite the fact he barely knew her.

After Alice had poured coffee for the tired teenagers she retreated to the kitchen.

“So, what do we do about the Eliza situation? We have to tell Mrs Schuyler, right?” Alexander asked, voice hushed as he leant across the table. John Laurens stabbed absentmindedly at his waffles with his fork, staring at the maple syrup bottle.

“Did you hear me, John?” Alexander asked after his question was followed by silence and continued stabbing at the waffle.

“Huh? Sorry. What?” John replied, looking up from the maple syrup; confused.  
  
“I was asking what we do about Eliza, what she told us. I don’t know, we have to tell her mum don’t we?” Alexander repeated his question.

  
“I don’t,” Began John, pausing and pushing the waffle around his plate with the fork, deep in thought. “I don’t know, exactly. I’m not sure if. Maybe, but maybe not.” John mumbled to himself, making very little sense.

“So basically, you’re not sure either?” Said, Alexander. John nodded, taking a drink from his coffee mug and sighing.

“What aren’t we sure about?” Hercules asked, suddenly behind John with his hand on John’s shoulder.

“AH! Herc, why do you keep doing that? You scared me, man, where did you even come from?” John had almost jumped out of his skin when Herc had spoken, unaware he had been there.

“Well, little Honey Badger, when a mommy and a dadd-” Hercules began, before an elbow belonging to John Laurens, collided with his stomach, silencing him. “Ok, ok, so what aren’t you sure about?” He pressed.

“Pancakes.” Alexander blurted out.

Simultaneously, John Laurens panicked and said the first thing that came to mind.

“Captain America Civil War,” his eyes widened when he realised Alexander had answered too, with a different answer.

“If you’re gonna lie at least get your stories straight, dudes,” Hercules told them. “Although, lying is not the best idea, in any situation unless it’s life or death or about Angelica’s cooking.” He followed up.

Alexander’s eyes lit up, a way to distract Hercules and steer him into another topic of conversation. “Angelica’s cooking?” He asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion, stifling a yawn and slurping his coffee.

“Don’t get me wrong Angelica is great - if a bit terrifying - really great,” Began Hercules, as he pondered over how to word it.

“It’s just that she cannot cook, at all.” John finished for him, laughing.

“Cannot cook is an understatement, honestly it’s a miracle she hasn’t killed any of us yet. There is also the fact that she doesn’t take constructive criticism well when it comes to her cooking.” Whilst he spoke, Hercules stole a waffle off John’s plate. “Now,” He continued, before pausing to chew. “Back to the matter at hand, what are you boys so unsure about?” Hercules was not one to drop a subject.

John looked to Alexander as if to say “What do we tell him?” Unsure, Alexander cast his gaze away from Hercules. He was growing more anxious by the second, his fidgeting and increasingly rapid breathing reflected this.

“Somebody, they confided something serious, to Alexander and I. We now need to figure out how to help them and who needs to be informed,” John told Hercules the truth, whilst protecting Eliza’s identity, allowing Alexander to breathe easier now that the pressure was off him to answer.

“How serious are we talking, skipped a P.E class? Or like flunking out of school? Or killed a man? How bad is it?” Hercules pulled out a chair, turning it around and sitting with his forearms leant on the backrest of the chair.

“Between flunking out and murder?” Began John. “However, it may LEAD to murder, on my part.” He seethed.

“Well, firstly, how old is the person in question? A minor?” Hercules questioned, calmly.

“A minor.” Responded John.

“Have they got parents, Laurens? Like caring trustworthy parents?” Hercules started, when John nodded, he continued. “Then, as hard as it might be for them, in the long run, their parents need to know, and they need to know sooner rather than later. Nothing good will come of waiting, or of lying.”

“I suppose you're right. You give very good advice mom. ” Laurens told Hercules, his tone was both teasing and genuine. As Alexander looked at him, he noticed his gaze fall on a large painted portrait of a woman on the wall, presumably his own mother. Alexander could only imagine how he was feeling, he’d lost his own mother and it wasn’t something you ever truly got over. He shot a small smile across the table to John, who was looking down at his waffles sadly.

“Of course I do Son!” Hercules exclaimed, leaping out of his seat and rushing to embrace John with what may have been a hug and may have been a tackle.

“Ah! Bonjour my imbeciles, do tell me, there is a reason you are awake and making noise so early, oui?” Lafayette grumbled as he entered the room, yawning.

“Honey Badger’s gotta go to baseball Laf, and therefore he must eat.” Said Hercules matter of factly, pulling out a chair for the tired french boy and pouring him a coffee.

“Can I..” Alexander began, suddenly trailing off, realising his question might be rude. “How do you, well..” Once again Alexander trailed off.

“How do I play baseball? It’s okay to ask Alex. I bat and somebody runs the bases for me.” John explained.

“Laurens is incredible at batting!” Hercules added.

__________

John didn’t remember much from the accident, or the days that followed. Of the accident, all his mind could conjure, was a thud followed by blinding pain. So many noises; shattering glass, screams, sirens.

He did remember was waking up from surgery, his nose felt dry from the cannula drizzling oxygen into it, which tickled. There wasn’t much pain when he woke up, everything felt fuzzy and distant, a lot of the time was an indescribable haze. There were tubes everywhere, draining wounds, delivering medication and other less pleasant things.

His dad had held one hand and his mother held the other, while the doctor told him what had happened. The injury, the treatment, the outlook, he couldn’t meet the woman’s eyes, she had a kindly voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her, instead staring at the jungle-themed artwork on the green walls.

After she’d finished talking, John spoke “When, when can I play baseball again, how soon?” he had asked, voice small.

Shocked, his mother laughed. The doctor explained once more that it was unlikely he would ever walk again.

“Yes, but when can I play baseball again?” John reiterated his question, voice bigger, determination evident.

The doctor came back later with a psychologist to once again explain the prognosis to the boy.

However, John persisted with his wish to play baseball. Through the weeks of gruelling physical therapy, there was a clear goal; John would play baseball again.

John had always enjoyed baseball, for as long as he could remember, his earliest memories were of practising his batting skills in the back garden with his father.

The day he wheeled up to the plate to bat for the first time since the accident was the first time anything truly felt normal again.

_______

Lafayette, Hercules and Alexander accompanied John Laurens to his baseball game, cheering loudly from the stands every time he wheeled up to bat. After the game, John changed out of his uniform and met his friends at the car.

“Alex, we have somebody we need to go talk to. Is it okay to drop these idiots home and go do that?” John asked, as he transferred from one seat to another and began to disassemble the wheelchair.

“Sure,” Alex replied, looking forward to more time with just John, not remembering what they had to do.

John’s phone buzzed, as it had been doing all morning before the game. He groaned, holding down the power button and shoving it into the centre console of the car.

Alexander looked at him confused. “It’s just dad, he’s sent like 62 texts asking if I’m okay, he hates leaving me at home ‘alone’, or letting me come to games without him there, or letting me drive myself around, or me being in cars. I could go on forever and ever, about his list of things he worries about me doing.” John put air quotes around alone, his eyes rolling in frustration.

“If you’re dropping us, can I head out to the library while you’re out? I need to pick up some books for an assignment - actually Laf you really need to study dude, you’re coming too.” Hercules mothered, Lafayette grumbled, muttering at him in French.

“Drive safe kids!” Hercules yelled as he shut the car door, he waved as John backed out of the driveway. Lafayette was still grumbling about going to the library.

“Le dimanche n'est pas pour l'étude, mon cher” Lafayette’s accented thickened with his exasperation, hands gesturing wildly.

“Laf, please speak English, I literally have no clue what you’re saying, dude!” Hercules sighed, he’d tried to learn French considering his boyfriend frequently forgot that not everybody in America speaks French, but it hadn’t stuck. He could understand some phrases, but not many and rarely whole sentences.

“Sunday is not for study, mon cher!” Hercules was certain that halfway down the street, Laurens and Alex would be able to hear Lafayette considering the volume at which he was speaking. The french mumbling continued.

“OH MY GOD MARIE-JOSEPH PAUL YVES ROCH GILBERT DU MOTIER, MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE, WOULD YOU STOP TALKING FOR EVEN ONE SECOND?” Hercules shouted, exasperated.

“Non, mon cher! Non!” Was Lafayette’s reply, accompanied by a cheeky grin.

“I guess this will shut you up then!” Hercules said, his lips suddenly on Lafayette’s. After a long kiss, Lafayette pulled away for a second. “Shall we go inside?” Hercules asked

“Non.” Lafayette said, smirking, it was so easy for him to wind Hercules up.

“Fine then, have it this way.” Hercules replied, sweeping Lafayette off his feet and into his arms, bridal style.

“Allons Y, my noble steed!” Lafayette shouted, pointing towards the front door and laughing.

_______

Down the street from Hercules and Lafayette’s playful arguing, John and Alex were deep in discussion of how to go about what they had to do.

“So we try and get Eliza, to tell them?” Alexander asked.

“We try, if not, then we have to, for her own good, I won’t feel good about going against her though.” John sighed, looking at the road in front of him

It felt as though there was a small hurricane making its way through Alexander’s stomach as they waited at the front door of the Schuyler mansion.

“John, good morning! Lovely to see you, dear, come in come in.” Mrs Schuyler answered the door, smiling cheerfully at the boys. “You must be Alexander! It’s so lovely to meet you finally, I’m Catherine Schuyler.” Catherine extended a hand for Alexander to shake and called out for Eliza to come downstairs.

“Coming mom!” She called out, and soon enough Eliza made her way down the grand staircase, slowly, no spring in her step. Eliza’s dark hair was out of the way of her face, tied up in a messy bun, she was wearing an oversized t-shirt and leggings. She looked exhausted like she hadn’t slept in a week. Her eyes, her skin, her clothes and the way she walked, all screamed exhaustion.

“J-John, Alexander, I didn’t know you were coming, I, this, I’m sorry” Eliza gestured at her hair and her outfit, sighing and tucking flyaway hairs behind her ear.

“Would you like to take over the drawing room kids? Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Cake? Cookies? Scones? Soda?” Catherine smiled warmly at the teens as they stood awkwardly in the foyer,

“Yes please, the drawing room would be lovely, mom, thank you! I’m alright right thanks, do you boys want anything?” Eliza replied, giving her mother a kiss on the cheek. Both boys mumbled no thank yous to Mrs Schuyler and followed Eliza.

When they entered the large drawing room Alexander was shocked, it was as though they’d stepped through time into the 1700s, the portraits on the walls, the furniture and the curtains, every last detail screamed sixteenth century. Eliza locked the door after everybody was inside.

Alexander sat across from Eliza, John sat beside her. Everybody stared off into the distance not knowing what to say and to whom.

After what seemed to all three like hours, but was in reality only a few minutes, Eliza spoke, her voice soft and shaky.

“So, uh, w-what’s thi-this about?” The words tumbled out quickly, stuttered. Eliza’s legs jiggled and she bit her fingernails waiting for a response.

“What you told us, does your mother or father know?” Asked John. He was trying to keep eye contact with Eliza, who’d turned her head away, eyes fixed on a tree outside the window, barely blinking.

“No, they d-don’t, they can’t, they can’t John, no, please.” Eliza burst into tears, sliding off the couch and onto the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest and sobbing loudly, slowing shaking her head from side to side over and over again.

“Hey, hey it’s okay Eliza. You’re okay. Can you take a deep breath?” Alexander recognized Eliza was getting very panicked, she was breathing too fast, she was jittery.

“I know it’s terrifying to tell somebody, trust me Eliza I do. It feels like, if you tell them, then it’s real, it happened. You know what I mean? You feel like they’ll think less of you or that it’s your fault. That they’ll look at your differently, treat you differently, or hate you, don’t you?” Alexander asked, calmly, sitting down on the floor opposite Eliza.

Eliza nodded, “How did you.. ?” She trailed off, looking quizzically at Alexander. It’s like you knew ex-exactly what I was thinking.” Eliza wondered aloud.

“I’ve been through something, something bad like this, and trust me, Eliza, the longer you wait to tell them, the worse it is. I don’t pretend to know the challenges you’re facing. I’m not you, I haven’t experienced your life, but in a similar situation, the turning point was telling an adult. It’s really important Eliza and I promise it will help, maybe not now, but in the future, it will help, and it might seem impossible, but everything does until it’s done. You have John and me to support you, and Peggy and Angelica, all your siblings.” For the first time in many months, the words came easily to Alexander, he knew what to say, how to say it. He was surprised.

“I don’t know, I’m just so-” Eliza began but didn’t finish, collapsing against John’s legs, sobbing.

“Shh, it’s okay, shh,” John cooed, stroking Eliza’s hair and passing her a tissue to wipe her tears. “It’s going to be okay, I promise,” John whispered to her.

Alexander was once again both confused and horrified by the fact he felt jealous of how close the pair were.

“Sometimes it’s best to get the hard things over and done with quickly Eliza,” Alexander suggested. In his experience, the longer you push away the unimaginable the harder it becomes.

“I uh, should I jus-” Gut-wrenching sobs wracked Eliza’s body, the sound drowning out her words, cutting her off. Slowly, shakily, Eliza stumbled to her feet. Looking at the floor, Eliza spoke softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Can you, both of you, can you come with me, please?” She asked them, tears streaming down her face.

With Alexander on one side, and John on the other Eliza made her way towards the living room where her parents were spending time with their family. Catherine was seated on the leather recliner sofa, her youngest son Philip on the floor in front of her, his textbooks, notebooks and pencils were strewn across the glass coffee table.

At the other end of the sofa sat 13-year-old Cornelia, 6-year-old Courtlandt and 12-year-old John, gathered around the laptop perched on Cornelia’s knees. The siblings were watching a video, that had them laughing so hard that tears leaked from the corners of their eyes and no sound came from their mouths.

Across the room from his wife Catherine and son Phillip Jr, Senator Philip Schuyler sat in an armchair with his youngest daughter, 3-year-old, Catherine. The young girl was giggling as her father tickled her. A stack of picture books sat on the arm of the chair.

“I can’t, they’re so happy, I can’t do this to them. I can’t. Not today, not ever.” Eliza told the boys stood beside her as she turned away from the doorway to the living room, and sprinted towards the staircase. Footsteps pounded against the wood as she ascended quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! Constructive comments appreciated! x feel free to come and talk to me on tumblr I can talk about hamilton for hours: anthonybaemos.tumblr.com


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